


Hiding Places

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: Cupboard Sex, F/M, Office Sex, Officebatch, Oral Sex, Smut, before Sherlock, cumbersmut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees





	Hiding Places

You smooth down your pencil skirt and remove a small piece of thread from the side of the material over your thigh. The silky fabric slides under your hands as you let your fingers run slowly down to the hem and leave them there while you look up into the mirror. You should get back to your office, before someone comes to look for you; there aren't many hiding places and the ladies' toilet is probably the first place they'll look.

You stare at your reflection and a smile forms across your lips as you realise that you've yet again been enchanted by him, if only in your thoughts. You should stop doing this, but you can't help it. Each day you think you can cut yourself off from these thoughts, but you never quite manage it. His presence in the office overpowers you; his hair, his scent and his voice, and you always end up somewhere, often hiding, trying to rid your system of him. 

Today was quick. Sometimes you wait until the office is empty and take a risk at your desk. Other times his face haunts your dreams and your bed sheets end up a tangled mess, damp and sticky. 

You wash your hands again and ruminate for the hundredth time on the ethics of asking out someone who reports to you. Someone who is clearly very committed, albeit to a different career. He is, quite frankly, useless at this job, although you haven't the heart to really tell him. His charm and sense of humour are worth having around the office, and at least he has finally worked out how to use the photocopier without panicking. And his face.... You shake your head at yourself and take a deep breath. Time to get on with some work, you berate yourself again.

You walk towards your office door and glance around the open area, cubicles and vulgar plastic plants forming a strange criss-cross pattern against the peculiar blue-grey carpet. The sun is shining now and the office seems to have lifted slightly with the wonderful yellow hues streaming in through the windows. You flick your eyes over to his cubicle and are disappointed when he is not there. His lunch hour, his business, you think, wishing it was yours too. 

Distracted by the lack of him, you don't notice until you push the door all the way open that he's there in front of you. He's sat inside the broad window enclosure behind your desk, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His face is lazy, like he's smirking at you. Not exactly an appropriate way to greet your manager, you think, but your heart pounds loudly in your chest all the same. 

"Hi Ben, what are you doing in here?" You try to keep your tone of voice light, as usual, but you're struggling, the expression on his face is so distracting. 

"I need to have a chat with you, in... private." He clears his throat to continue and swings his legs down so he's facing you. "I've had some good news. I've got a job. A job, job. Quite a big thing, looks really good and hopefully it'll be quite successful. It's a secret though, so I can't really tell you what it is, but it's a... a re-imagining of a classic, shall we say." 

"Oh, Ben that's great news for you. Not so good for me... But, yeah, great for you."

"Yeah." He jumps down from his make shift seat at the window and stands in front of you, looking at his feet. "So, I have to hand in my resignation." He looks down at you and smiles broadly, the lopsided, crinkled smile that you see every time you close your eyes at night. 

"Ok, I'll sort out some paperwork for you and we'll need to meet to discuss dates, but I guess you're giving me your notice now?" 

"Yeah," he walks over to the narrow window next to your office door and closes the blinds that run up inside the two panes of glass. "I am."

Your breathing hitches in your chest and you can feel the heat in your cheeks as you realise what he might be thinking. You swallow hard and tell yourself to ignore the feeling returning to the base of your spine, focussing on his large hand as it clicks over the lock of your office door. 

You glance over to the small walk-in cupboard at the side of your desk and remember all the times you've hidden in there, desperate for him to accidentally catch you while you were pleasuring yourself. He turns to face you and seems to read your mind, holding out an arm towards you and fixing you with his blue-green eyes. 

"So... As you're not actually my manager any longer..."

"Well, yes, I am. Until you leave..." you start and then wonder why you're even arguing.

"I don't care," he says simply and sweeps a hand from your shoulder, running his fingers down until they meet yours and tangle together. He looks down at you, so close now that you feel his soft breath against your face. You stare at his tie and feel desperate to tear it off. You've thought about this moment so many times that you're paralysed, the reality of it refusing to permeate into your consciousness, making you think it's another one of your daydreams. 

But this is real, and the soft press of his lips brings you back to earth as his tongue flicks gently at you and you gradually respond. His other hand finds your back and you feel it splayed across you, pulling you in towards him, marking out the lines of your underwear through your thin cotton shirt. The touch of his fingers feels even better than you had imagined and it makes you lean back into him slightly, as you open your mouth and accept that this is happening.

Breaking off, you look again at the cupboard and he pulls you over to it, turning the key in the lock and swinging it open. There isn't room for two people, really, but he doesn't seem concerned. He seems focused, concentrated on you. This must be why he's becoming such a well regarded actor, you realise, when he wants something he goes after it regardless of constraints. 

He places his hands on your waist and bends to kiss you again. You lean in to his embrace, but are surprised when he lifts you up and seats you on the small filing cabinet. 

You giggle at the fulfilling of a stereotype office encounter, but you are silenced by his fingers inching up your legs, pulling the hem of your skirt up, up, so far up that you wriggle slightly to allow the silky material to slide over the curve of your bottom. 

His mouth is hot upon yours now and your teeth crash together as you reach up and undo his tie, plucking at the buttons at the collar of his white shirt. He shrugs out of his jacket, which pools on the floor by his feet and he moans when you graze your hand deliberately across his crotch.

Your breathing is fast becoming a rhythm, which he matches with his own, fast and full of desire, pent up secretly for weeks. His fingers push your legs apart and you comply eagerly, so desperate for his touch that you start to feel a little faint. You swallow and remember how you imagined this would be, realising your thoughts have never come close to accurately portraying his sensitive touch. Just as you think he's going to drive you wild, he stops and pulls away from your lips, releasing a huge grin and sliding down, brushing your hard nipples through two layers of fabric, with his fingertips.

He hooks his hands around your thighs and holds you firmly in place as he looks up at you from between your legs. You let out a shaky breath as he moves towards you achingly slowly and licks a stripe up, lingering on your clit for a second, then doing it again. And again, and then he groans as you lean back and push into his face, his tongue expertly lavishing you with the attention you've imagined so many times. 

His hot breath against your thighs disappears as you lose control, arching your back, bucking your hips towards him, and he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, and releasing it, then flicking over you alternately. He lets out the lowest hum you have ever heard and it serves to send you over the edge, the vibration and his soft, hard, soft, hard tongue making you cry out. He laughs softly as he carries you gently through your orgasm, slowing his movements until you finally stop shuddering, your head tipping back in momentary exhaustion. 

Sweat drips down and pools at the small of your back and as you regain your senses you cannot believe what just happened. 

He stands and kisses you softly again, the taste of yourself mixing with his own saliva and musk, and you know you can, and will, do it again. 

Once your breathing returns to something like normal, you smile against his chest as his arms wrap tightly around you. 

"Ben?" you whisper.

"Mmmm?" 

"You are so fired."


End file.
